Proud, continuation
by AleciaB
Summary: This story is the continuation of RedGreyBulls story entitled "Proud" - and picks up where he left off so best to read it first. It explores an alternative solution to the 47 Seconds scenario, and totally excludes what rolled out on the TV show.
1. Chapter 1

This story is a continuation of RedGreyBull's story entitled "Proud" to be written by his invitation - read this first as it picks up where he left off. The TV show, and how it went has been excluded as the story from its beginning went on a different path. This is one of the many paths the story could go... hope you enjoy it.

Later that night ...

She tossed, she turned. The blankets that covered her didn't feel right, her night clothes were constrictive and the air was suffocating. The mattress was uncomfortable. The bed too big, the apartment too lonely.

To top it off her mind was restless, frustrated and playing out the events of the past several days like she was flicking through the TV stations and only finding bad repeats of wasted and missed moments. Her brain wouldn't cease it relentless punishment. All attempts to take control of her thoughts and emotional stated dismally failed. Meditation had failed. Imagining a candle flame and blocking all thoughts had almost been successful, but Castle's image leaning towards her telling her it wasn't her fault, that he was proud of her, loved her, still did, had interrupted her process. She stopped the imagery work feeling claustrophic and more guilty for all the fabrications she had lived with for months.

Castle was haunting her. His usual blue eyes, cloudy grey with worry had faded in and out, his quiet calm voice repeating how proud he was of her echoed in her mind; his words a blatant lie, to cover what he was really feeling about her actions, or lack of actions.

It had been a long time since she had lost count of how many sleepless nights she had experienced because of their confusing and complicated relationship. Their interactions rarely ran smoothly outside of the work environment, but recently things had been going better for them all the time. She had been letting him know via verbal hints and physical signals that she had turned a corner and was starting to see a future. He had seemed to understand. Until tonight.

His voice was present again, calmly, quietly telling her, _'I still do, you know. I'm not pushing. That's the last thing you need — I know that. No pressure. I'm not asking for anything, and I'm not even asking you to say anything, OK? I just… you should know, for what it's worth. It wasn't just because I… didn't know if I'd get another chance.'_

"You said it when I was dying," she declared to the image of Castle in her vivid imagination, to the empty room. The Castle in her imagination didn't react.

She rolled from her side to her back, running her fingers meanly through her hair. She wiped the tears from the side of her face and sniffed.

"Fuck it. I can't sleep," she huffed out and sat in bed tugging at her cotton top. She growled. Impatience quickly wore too thin and she pulled off the top throwing it to the end of the bed. Naked, free and now feeling the cool air, she began to focus on breathing slowly and steadily. Slow. Relax.

If she was to get some sleep before daylight, she needed to calm down and shut her mind down. She wanted to know whether he had replied to her text messages in which she had apologized for not talking to him like an adult at the Haunt that evening. She admitted she had been shocked and lost for words.

By habit, she blindly reached to the night stand for her phone, picked it up and flipped it over, pressing her finger to the on button. The device lit up glowing into the darkness. Her eyes blinked in rapid succession before she was able to focus on the screen. No messages. She opened the message app and pressed on Castle's name, reading the last message he had sent her. It had been to tell her he was heading into the Precinct with coffees. She had missed that message when he'd sent it because she had been interrogating the pickpocket named Lopez.

 ** _Be in soon. Getting coffee._**

She had send eight texts to him since his.

An unexpected sob escaped her.

 _'I … didn't know if I'd get another chance..' echoed._

"I need another chance." She stressfully whispered, "I need it."

 _'–I rehearsed what I was gonna say._ ' She recollected him saying as she thought about the thousands of time she had tried to brave up, to confess that she had heard his words and that she felt the same way. _'Stood outside a Starbucks, talking to myself. I wanted to get it right. But he wasn't even there. I went in, and I asked at the desk, and I thought he'd just walk around the corner. Or be out in the parking lot, on his bike. Maybe even… with you. But he wasn't there.'_

"Because I pushed him away too," she cried with self-pity thinking about Josh. Although absent a lot, he had been a great boyfriend, had been kind and caring. She knew he was engaged to a doctor or nurse or something like that. Lanie had filled her in a while back, but she hadn't cared enough to take in the information at the time. The doctor had moved on and she was still alone and dancing around Castle pretending that everything was just fine.

It wasn't. At all.

It wasn't even alright by a long shot. And now he knew she'd heard him say those three words. In addition, she had also heard him plead her to stay with him, to not leave her. He'd said that first. She had tried to promise she wouldn't leave but words hadn't come out.

She had clung on to every word he'd said after she was shot. Almost every conscious moment she'd lived in the hospital, when her life had been touch and go, she had secretly meditated and promised that she would stay alive, not leave him. She had prayed for time, so she could have the things in life that she wanted, be with him. Prayed and continued to breathe.

Breathed and healed, until she had been able to take care of herself again. All the seconds, minutes, hours, days and now months since that moment, she had never left his side, had kept him close spiritually and physically all this time.

She'd asked him for time, had thought he'd understood what she had struggled to tell him at the swings. The subtext. He'd heard the subtext. She wanted to be a better person for him. He was after all, Richard Castle, and he could have any woman he wanted. All she had asked for was time; time to accept and reciprocate what he had said to her, time to mend, time to find who she was.

It was clear that he hadn't fully understood her at the swings, and it was because she had lied. All this time he believed that she didn't remember and this influence how he thought.

Weakened, guarded and always afraid she was going to be shot dead, she'd lied, kept him close enough, but at arms' length to protect herself, to protect him from the snipers in the shadows. Always there beside him, just wasn't ready to be loved by him.

She wiped eyes that were brimming with tears then unconsciously brushed the back of her hand against the bed sheet.

If she were to brave up in the morning, trek to the loft and pound on his door until he opened it, she knew that the moment she saw his eyes, his expression, she would be stuck for words. She could rehearse what she wanted to say for the rest of the night, but once she stood before him, she would more than like be rendered to a babbling mess or be silent, unable to engage her brain to her vocal cords. He was the only person in the world who had that effect on her, the ability to simultaneously scramble her mind and create heat in her loins. He made her feel he was the safest place to be in the world. His presence brought her peace.

And going back to sleepless nights. How many of those wee hours of the night had she spent fantasizing about what his hands would feel like, what effect his soft lips could have on her body. My Lord, the things she longed to do for him. Masturbation using Castle as her leading man was a given. Ex-boyfriends, favourite movie or TV stars, sports men that physically appealed to her were off the menu. What she would give to have the morning coffee preceded with a session of making love with the writer. Some mornings when he arrived at the Precinct carrying their coffees, she felt her cheeks and neck heat up, recalling her nocturnal fantasies.

 _He would look at her oddly, tilt his head momentarily then would place the coffee on her desk._

 _"Morning Detective," he would begin, "Good night?"_

 _Her breathe would catch in her throat. He knew. The guilt bubbled to the surface with the embarrassment she had been caught out._

 _Every occasion, she suppressed the shame and would reply, "Nothing out of the ordinary, Rick." She would then allow her gaze to migrate from her blue eyes to his belt, to her coffee._

 _He would make a minor grunt, sit down in his chair, Kate sure he knew exactly what she had been up to during the night._

 _"Eat your bear claw," he would say, and give her a smartass smile._

If she sensed he knew so much about how she felt about him, then why couldn't she bring herself to cross that proverbial line, to allow herself be in love with him? She knew the answer to that question. In her private world, she didn't want to lose him as a friend, her best friend. He was safe pocketed away as a lover in her sexual fantasies.

Exasperated with herself, Kate flopped backward to the bed with a grunt of frustration mainly. Her head protested when it impacted with the memory foam pillow. Eyes open and sleepless, she swiped through the photos of her and Castles stored on her phone, and permitted herself to dwell about her fear of allowing another being to love her. To love her wholly and unconditionally as she knew Castle would. The manner in which he admired her when he believed she wasn't watching, the way his fingers lingered on the cup when he passed her anything so their fingers touched. It always sent electrical currents surging throughout her body.

The photos were another form of fantasy, she thought, as she scanned some of the hundreds of pictures she had collected over the years. Both were guilty of taking and sharing photos and he loved to edit them into funny pictures they would laugh about. She paused on a picture she'd snapped of him when he wasn't aware. Blue shirt, bright blue eyes and a gentle smile, his hair falling over his forehead, taken at a murder scene a few months ago. She sighed, feeling the need to talk to her best friend but that was Castle, the only person she had allowed in since the death of her mother.

 _My mom._

"I really need to speak to my mom right now," she murmured to herself breaking into timid cries. In the solitude of the dark apartment, tired to the brink of exhaustion from long hours at work, it was too easy to feel vulnerable. She dropped the phone to the bed and put her hands to her eyes letting herself cry out the recent stresses.

In amongst the cries and the endless memories of Castle flooding her mind, an idea formed, that lead her along a path of thoughts about how Castle was a quite sensitive and caring man, in tune with his emotions and those of others. He lived his life with women and understood them better than most men. Likewise, Kate, spent her waking life with men and she intuitively understood how they ticked. It suddenly made sense to her that Rick needed to be reassured and shown how she felt about him. She was always pushing him away, would then lure him back in only to push back again. She ceased to cry, sniffed and opened her eyes to the ceiling.

"Prove it to him," she whispered, "You can't tell him, but can prove it to him how you have felt about him all this time. Utilize what you know about him, Kate."

Feeling more positive and hopeful that she did have another chance, she sat up, reached for the lamp she turned on. She found her top and redressed in it, then scrambled down to the end of the bed, leaned over to the large wooden box and pushed the clothes she had worn that day off the top of the box to the floor. The lid was heavy causing her to grunt as she pulled it open. She peered over the lid to the contents inside the large oak box, a smile creeping over her face. A box full of memories from her childhood to as recently as yesterday.

She stepped off the bed and hurried over to her shoe closet. She had bought new boots the other day and soon found the box she had left aside to throw out. It was black and strong enough to do the job she required of it.

With the box on the floor, Kate knelt before her trunk full of personal items. There were so many things, but for this task, she only needed items at the top of the pile. She reached for a stack of folded sheets of writing paper, held together with a purple ribbon tied in a bow. She lovingly brushed her palm over the top sheet very aware of what secrets the papers held, then gently placed it into the shoe box, on the tissue paper that lined the box to protect the boots. She then picked up a red journal that was almost exploding with additional items pasted within in. She momentarily held it, its contents important to a relevant period of her life, their life. She placed it beside the papers. She then found a small draw string jewelry bag that jingled when she picked it up. She continued until she was certain she was done. She closed the shoe box. She closed the trunk.

At 4.47 am she touched off the lamp, laid to her side and closed her eyes. The place she went to when she missed her mother, was the place that would hopefully help save her relationship with Castle. Feeling confident, she fell into a peaceful sleeping knowing what she was going to do when daylight came.


	2. Chapter 2

**_This story which is not action packed, has been written in an intimate narrative distance so I can better describe the characters' emotional journeys through each chapter. We all know that highly sensitive matters between people can create emotional roller coaster rides with peaks and troughs. Keeping the point of view to one person per scene has proved a little harder to maintain. Keeping the story viable, progressing and on track are also good challenges. Anyways, hope you enjoy the next chapter. Thank you for reading and I look forward to reviews._**

The coffee machine was gurgling away when Castle heard a sharp knock on the front door; an unfamiliar rap. He glanced at his watch, 7.47 am. Bit early for an unexpected visitor, and the doorman on the ground floor hadn't buzzed the intercom to inform the household that there was someone dropping by. That concluded the doorman knew who was visiting and knew Castle would accept the company.

He checked the coffee machine was okay for a few moments, grabbed a tea towel to wipe his wet hands, and threw it on the counter as he walked to the front door. Half way he slowed his gait, rooting about in the deep pockets of his track pants to retrieve his phone. The question had arisen whether the person at the door had anything to do with the phone calls Beckett had made in the past half hour or so. He had let all her calls go to voice mail. He didn't want to talk to her right now. Last night had been enough, what with her lack of initiative to come out of her introverted shell and either stand up for herself or fight for what she wanted. He knew he had done enough provoking to get a reaction. Because he'd hit the mark so well, she'd clammed up.

He wasn't proud of Kate this morning. Not one bit. Wasn't last night either. If he was going to be honest with himself, he'd say he was pissed at her for having him tag along all this time on a promise she was never going to come good with. He was a fool for following her for so long, for hoping.

With Kate still on his mind, the frustration she caused him very evident on his face, Rick opened the door wide and found Esposito standing there in his gym gear.

Esposito had a cautious smile. "Is it good morning, Castle?"

Rick grunted and scratched his head, then realized he had been caught out. He immediately concealed his emotional state with a lighter expression. "Excuse me, Esposito. Morning. Yes, good morning."

"Okay," Esposito said evidently confused.

"What's going on?" Castle scanned the detective. Unshaven, a little ruffled from sleep, weariness showing, but ready for a gym workout and holding a large lady's shoe box with a purple ribbon tied around it. How odd.

"Just on our way for a workout."

His brow knotted. "Then, what are you doing here?"

"Beckett called me. She asked me for a favor, hell, I owe her plenty."

"Buying her shoes?"

Esposito frowned, glancing down at the box. "No, I'm not buying her shoes. She asked if I would deliver this bloody box to you. She said you probably wouldn't answer the door if she brought it over."

Rick silently agreed with Beckett on that, but continued, "What is it?"

Esposito rolled his eyes. "Shoe box, man."

"I already established that, Espo. I've seen them before. What's in it?"

"I dunno. She wouldn't say. It's kind of heavy and things are loose in it." He held out the box toward the writer. "She was really jittery this morning, in a Beckett way. You know…"

"Hides it all, but you know there's something going on way?"

"That's it. Spot on."

"Well, I said something last night and I think it shocked her to the core. She wasn't able to say much."

"She might not of said much, but I know heard you. Lanie mentioned you two had a discussion last night at the bar, that she interrupted it. Kate spilled to Lanie, then took off after you. Lanie came to my place after Beckett left her."

Rick shook his head, processing for a moment, "I didn't see her. No texts. She's tried to call this morning, but …" he shrugged his shoulders and waved his phone in front of Esposito then put it back in his pocket.

"Take it, Castle. Took Kate a lot to hand me this damn box. She called me because she knew I would be on my way to the gym. She's a mess." He pushed the box to Rick who reluctantly accepted possession.

Rick gave it a bit of a shake. Esposito was right. There was some weight in it and things were moving about.

The detective loosened his shoulders with a bit of a shake. "Dude, she said to me that you shouldn't be proud of her, but there's plenty to Beckett to be proud of. She's awesome."

Rick stood taller, surprised by Esposito sharing information. "Really? She said that?" He was aware there existed a unique and symbiotic friendship between Esposito and Beckett, and that Espo would often be the person to set Kate straight when she needed righting. He was disappointed that Kate didn't agree with the pride.

Esposito nodded. "She really listened, Rick. I've gotta go. My ride is waiting downstairs."

"Say hi to Ryan for me," Rick said fully aware he would be going the gym with his partner. He was surprised Kate didn't join them as the three often did work outs together.

"Will do. Go easy on her. I know she hides her emotions but she …." He trailed off aware the writer knew where he was going to finish up.

"Thanks Espo for doing it."

"No worries. See you in a few days."

With Esposito on his way to the gym, Rick kicked the front door shut and returned to the kitchen, setting the box down on the counter. He opted to finish making his coffee first. He needed caffeine to deal with the contents of the box, with Kate, and he also wanted the said box concealed in the office before his daughter and mother came downstairs from their respective bedrooms.

While the coffee machine was in the throws of preparing his first cup, he waited, leaning against the counter, his palms flat on the cold marble counter top. His attention was drawn to the simple black box. It was as mysterious as the woman who had given it to him. He peered at the schematic drawing of the boots that were once in the box and read the label. Dare. Black calf.

"Boots to the knees, reasonably high heeled. Size 9." He released a moan of longing, "Would love to see you in these with a short skirt."

Moving from the boots, instincts pricked that the stuff in the box was strictly for his eyes only. Kate had trusted Esposito to hand it on to him. It would have taken strength for her to release it. So, if his mother clapped eyes on the box tied with a purple ribbon, he would be pressured into sharing. He appreciated that Kate would rather give up a limb than have his mother know her innermost secrets. Fair enough too.

So, he found himself at a busy cross road and he had been there, standing on the curb, since he had heard her confession to Lopez. Before retiring to bed last night, he had written down questions on a sheet of note paper and he needed to find the answers that would help him make a decision about his future. More so, he needed to stick to that decision.

Was he willing to walk away from Beckett, the Precinct, virtually his current life? or

Was he willing to continue to pursue a woman he loved more than any other he had spent time with?

The obvious solution, being Option A, was to cut ties with Kate and the Precinct.

First problem: New York City was not big enough for him to stay away from her.

Second to that, was he loved his role with the NYPD and, with pride in mind, he was enormously proud of the success he had with solving crimes with Beckett and the boys. They worked well as a team and they had the highest solved crimes rate in the State.

Thirdly; Meeting the Detectives, especially Beckett, had changed his life completely, had breathed much needed fresh air into a stale place.

Fourth and looping back to the first issue; Kate.

He softly closed his eyes, tilting his chin towards his chest, granting himself another moment to reminisce about the night they met. Created only by the tones of Beckett's voice there was a foreign yet magical awakening that transpired within. It still happened. Not as powerful but she still did it for him. His soul had woken up; senses, nerves had tingled, a curiosity never experienced before had sparked to life and hadn't ceased to burn yet. There had been an internal pull on his heart strings, on every cell of his body the night the young ambitious detective had gatecrashed his party to arrest him. The moment he had turned about, to see her for the very first time; he'd soaked, no drowned in the sight of the tall woman pressing a NYPD badge out at him. All that had been in his mind was just how beautiful she was, especially her large dark eyes. There'd been a message hidden in her eyes. Just a flash, but he'd seen it at the bar. He'd seen it in the interrogation room. There had been other times, like she was on the brink of confessing, but then it would disappear and her eyes would clear. She had unbelievable eyes.

"Bedroom eyes," he murmured.

Those damn bedroom eyes.

His one obsession had begun that night, and he'd had no protection for his heart, no warning he was going to fall so hard. His heart hadn't had a chance. Even today, when she stared into his soul he was totally vulnerable and unable to resist her at all.

Rick opened his eyes when the coffee machine fell silent. The box was in his direct eye line, seemingly impatient for him to open it.

He took a deep breath, returning to his crossroad dilemma and his coffee, going to the fridge to fetch milk.

Option A would also kill off Nikki Heat, his bread and butter, the love of his creative life.

Killing Heat wasn't going to be easy, for him or Black Pawn. It left Option B.

Continue mission.

"Fucking two hard choices. Give up everything I love, or stay in limbo."

Using both palms he roughly rubbed his eyes and face to snap out of his thoughts for a while. He needed a shower and a walk in fresh air to clear his head. He lifted his head, gazing about the living room, his gaze settled on the promotional poster of Nikki Heat leaning against the piano. His bread and butter. How could he walk away from that?

If he was to successfully adhere to the theoretical conditions of Option A, he firstly needed to toughen up. Alternatively, he would move out of New York and somehow have someone swipe his memory of every detail about Kate Beckett. If only he could create an alternative universe that didn't have a certain woman in existence.

 _That's not toughening up._

 _Oh! To have the ability to see life in an alternative universe._

"You can, you fool. You're a fictional writer. Even Rook gets lucky. He caught his girl."

His fictional self scored, yet Rick hadn't been sexually active in way too long. He couldn't remember the last time. Meredith? No. That was another score for Option A. Sex. He would be available for women, many women.

But he only wanted one woman. Option B it was, and he would have to wait for the sex.

He poured full cream milk into a small silver jug and popped it under the milk frother, and hit the button. The milk heating and frothing was loud in the quietness of the loft, but his imagination remained distracted and only saw Kate standing beside him at the Precinct's coffee machine, keen for a mug of fresh coffee. In white lace lingerie. He knew she preferred the way he made coffee. It pleasured him to know that. It also pleasured him that he had the ability to imagine her at the Precinct, in the break room, wearing only lingerie. And the new boots.

He smirked to himself. That was alright.

As he poured the fluffy milk into the coffee mug, he sighed in resignation that his instincts would pull him on the right path of his destination, regardless of whether he was dragged there kicking and screaming. It had after all brought him every step of the way to where he was now.

So, it would be Option B, no doubt.

His desires were stronger than his mindset. He set the jug down on the kitchen bench, then wiped away the spilt milk with a cloth.

"Kate Beckett, my long limbed, gorgeous woman. You will break my soul."

With his coffee in one hand, he scooped up the box with the other and leaned it against his chest to balance it as he carefully made his way to the office. He placed both items on the desk then stepped back to the door to close it wanting privacy. Seated at his desk, he moved aside his MacBook then slid the black shoe box tied with the purple ribbon so it was right before him.

His eyes were drawn to the cream envelope taped to the top of the box. Kate had written 'Rick' on the front of the envelope in her neat cursive script. She had used a fountain pen. Blue ink. It was promising that she had addressed him as Rick. Had she written his surname, Castle was sure his anxiety would have been well on the rise earlier, and Option A would have been it.

His hands were a little sweaty. He swiped them down the thighs of his track pants then held them in the air a moment wriggling the fingers; a nervous habit he wasn't aware of. He could feel his pulses banging away, his throat constricting a fraction and the pressure of an oncoming headache was present.

 _Breathe._

He inhaled deeply, held for a count of four and exhaled.

"It can't be that bad, Dude. Man up."

With care, he peeled off the envelope and flipped it over to see It was sealed. The envelope knife was within an arm's length but he paused his progress, touching the textured paper to the tip of his nose, in hope. He breathed in, closing his eyes and there it was, a whiff of her scent, her perfume. His heart rate increased. Warmth blossomed in his loins. She must have held the envelope against her skin at some stage, maybe intentionally. What he would do to wake up to that scent every day.

"Hopeless romantic, is all you are Rick," he muttered to himself. He drank his coffee.

The phone still in his track pants' pocket, vibrated causing his nerves to jump. He pulled it out and swiped it. A message from Kate.

"Your timing, Beckett is unbelievable. I'm about to start."

He read: **_Esposito said you have the box. It's my heart. Please don't break it._**

He breathed out heavily. "Geez Kate. How many times have you punished mine?" He put the phone screen up on the desktop, not ready to communicate with the woman yet.

But then he read the text again. She was scared.

But she needed to wait a bit longer.

Using the knife, he sliced open the envelope then slid the piece of paper from it. Nice quality writing paper. He took a deep breath to control anxiety rising within him, fearing she had written him a Dear John letter. If it was, then the box contained items that belonged to him, had been in her possession for whatever reason. There were a good dozen novels at her apartment that he'd passed on to read at her leisure but the box definitely didn't contain novels. She always returned the books one by one as she finished them.

"It's a Dear Rick letter," he whispered.

 _She's called numerous times, and she just sent you that text, Dude. She's as anxious as you are. Nip the anxiety._

He unfolded the sheet of paper and set it right way up.


	3. Chapter 3

**_This is a short chapter tonight to release the pressure valve on the letter for you. I held it off last night because it was not an easy part to write and I wasn't happy with the draft I had. I got a bit buried in it and needed some space between me and if for a while. Tried to keep it as close to them as I could manage and I hope it reflects KB's persona. Thank you for the reviews to those who took the time to read what I wrote and to then give me feedback. It means a lot. So here goes._**

 **Chapter 3**

He unfolded the sheet of paper and set it right way up,

 _Dear Rick,_

 _On the grass that day, I heard every word you said. Every word. Initially, I didn't know how to deal with what you said so I kept you away. Then, when I was healing, I broke it into smaller portions that I could deal with._

 _What you wanted of me._

 _How you felt about me._

 _There wasn't a day I didn't commit to my promise to you. What you wanted, I managed to stick to. I stayed. I lived. I didn't leave you._

 _The second part, those three words, was harder to accept when I was battling to get better. I knew then, I know now too, how I feel. However, I should have known better than to cheat a friend as close as you are, of the truth for so long. I'm so sorry._

 _Rick, what you said last night crippled me emotionally, well it gave me a reality check I probably needed a long time ago. I've spent most of the night trying to figure out how to fix it, fix us. I think my letters, my journal and a few small sentimental things in the box will hopefully provide what you want to know, what I couldn't intimate to you so many times because I was afraid._

 _I hope I'm not out of time and that you're not letting go just yet._

 _I know you still do, and want you to know I always have._

 _Kate XX_

He wasn't aware when his heart rate settled down, at what stage the anxiety subsided, or that his eyes altered to an intense shade of blue as he studied every single word of Kate's letter. He just read the letter over and over until all the sentences were saved to his memory.

 _I know you still do, and want you to know I always have._

He could hear her say it.

With a welcomed state of calmness and feeling more secure than he had in years, he placed the letter aside to his left. He let the words sink in. Later that day, he would stash it with his collection of sentimental keepers. So far, that was the best thing Beckett had ever given him.

The lid of the box got tossed to the floor. He peered inside the box. The first thing his fingers touched and picked up was a coffee cup lid which had his writing all over it, wishing Kate a happy birthday. He smiled, thinking about her last birthday not so long ago. When he'd arrived at the Precinct, he had presented Kate with the usual coffee along with special bear claw. A pink and purple helium birthday balloon had been attached to the paper bag. He turned the lid over where he found a small Post It note that had Kate's handwriting on it. It said _Yes, I have the balloon_.

He smiled. Uncontrollably smiled. This was Kate showing him she loved him.

He set the cup lid on the desk then reached for the pile of what he concluded were letters, tied by another piece of ribbon. His name was written on the top sheet of paper. He went to untie the bow but something internal gave him pause. It didn't feel right for him to open them.

His eyes shifted to the journal, to the little pile of Post-it notes with his handwriting and drawings spilt all over them. He knew there were hundreds of scribblings and notes, and probably as many coffee cup lids she might have squirrelled away.

Half hidden under the red journal were two silver keys, hooked on to a blue key ring. He picked it up, turned the key ring over. It had 'Richard' in white letters. He closed his fingers around the keys, stared at the letters for several seconds then examined the keys. House keys.

Her text message had read. **_It's my heart. Don't break it._**

Keys to her home, her recluse, her private universe. Majorly significant.

He dropped the keys as though they were too hot. They hit his right thigh with a jingle then fell to the carpet with a soft thud.

He put down the letters. It was her private stuff. He couldn't read or look at any more of it. That was the wrong thing to do.

He stood up releasing a hefty sigh. He needed to clear his head.

Quickly, he put everything back in the box and placed the lid on it. He set his laptop on top of the box to dissuade anyone from peeking.

He went for a shower, a long shower.

Twenty or so minutes later, Castle was standing over the box again with the lid off. He was dressed for the day in jeans and a light cotton sweater but hadn't bothered to shave. His mind fresh, he was quite sure he knew what he had to do.

Rick picked up his iPhone, messed around with it until he was dialing Kate's number. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" She timidly greeted.

"Hey," he softly said. "I have the box."

"I know."

Silence fell between them, to the point Rick thought the call had dropped but then he heard her that nervous sound she made whenever they were about to embark on something challenging.

"Kate?"

"Mm?"

"You kept your birthday cup," he said using a tone that implied he thought she was crazy. Throwing some comic relief her way would ease the current tension.

He heard her smirk, then she said with a higher than normal tone, "Yeah, I did."

"Post it notes…" he trailed off, trying to keep the humour there. "I thought they ended up in the trash."

She murmured, "I keep everything." She cleared her throat.

"I see." He picked up the stack of letters. "Are you at home, Kate?"

"Yes."

"May I come over? I have to do this with you."

"Do what?"

"I don't want to be reading your private things without you being there."

"Of course. I understand you not wanting to read my journal, but the letters are for you. They were always for you."

"I think they might be our letters." Rick softly said. "I would like to read them with you."

"Then come over."

"I'll be an hour. Have you eaten?"

"No. I don't feel up to eating right now."

Rick remained silent momentarily, sure she was just too anxious to eat. He would set that right, "Are you okay?"

"Just tired. Very tired. I hardly slept and you know what the last few days have been like."

"I do. I'll be there soon, with sustenance."

"Bye."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Some people will understand me when I say, if you've fallen out of love with someone, you stop caring. Fights bounce of you and emotional energy is spared because you no longer care about investing in the relationship you once had. However, when you love someone who is very important to you, you are doing your best to keep the love alive, the relationship fresh, but when something rocks the boat, or upsets the harmony, it can turn your entire world upside down. It's worse if you like to be in control. I've been in both places. This is where they are. What is important to them. I imagine KB would be like a cat on a hot tin roof. Thank you for the reviews._** ** _They give me a buzz every time and also provide me with feedback I do work on._**

As restless and upset as she was in the night, Kate felt far worse that morning particularly now she was down to the business end of fixing up the problems between herself and Castle. He would arrive soon enough. That knowledge was churning her stomach almost to the point she could feel a bout of heart burn approaching. She had to cool her engines before she accepted his visit. To alleviate the rising stress levels, she made herself busy.

She made a cup of camomile tea to begin with and let it sit on the counter to cool. She continued domestic duties. She also put on calming acoustic music to hopefully drown out the internal dialog. When that music didn't work, she changed it to ACDC to pound the voice out of her head. That worked.

Inside 45 minutes, she stripped and remade the bed, tidied the bedroom and bathroom, put away stuff she'd left out, vacuumed the floors and threw her coloured clothes in the washing machine. The whites were in the dryer. Bed sheets would follow the colours.

Her stomach tumbled and rolled as much as the clothes in the dryer did.

When she was done cleaning, she changed out of her house cleaning clothes, into a blue long sleeved dress and boots. She turned off the music because she found it more distracting.

Trembling fingers fumbled with the hair band she when she tied her wavy dark hair into a loose pony tail. She brushed her teeth for a second time that day, staring at her reflection in the mirror, wondering what the hell he saw in her, why he loved her. She was aware she was an attractive woman and she liked to look her best, but beyond that, she was just a cop. She was also a woman messed up by her mother's death at an influential period of her young adult life. Rick had observed all that at the beginning; knew she was faulty. She was just another person conditioned by traumatic events, who had developed a robust habit of keeping everyone in her life orbiting just outside her personal bubble. She could maintain comfortable and constant friendships so long as they didn't close in on her too much. Rick tolerated it because he lived in the hope and belief he would burst her bubble, and because he loved working at the Precinct. A part of her longed to let him in, wanted to be able to love him but then something inside her that felt suffocated when he came too close, would clout him with cruel words or actions that would force him to retreat. That would give her the space she needed, and have him at arm's length where she wanted him.

Later, when she was alone and time to think, the guilt would set. She would figure out how to lure him back in and he would oblige but he wanted to be with her. It was a vicious circle going nowhere. It wasn't healthy.

She also preferred the boyfriends who wanted a girlfriend without the commitment. When they got serious, she split up with them. She feared she might do that with him, and he would be hard to shake off.

The closer arrival time came the worst Kate felt. She was unable to stop pacing the apartment. She had tried sitting and reading but her mind wouldn't focus on the novel and the urge to vomit toyed with her the nearer arrival time came. She waited out the sensation close to the bathroom several times. The nauseas would subside, and then she walked on to the end of the room.

She also puffed up and adjusted the placement of lounge pillows, refolded the throw rugs and dusted things that didn't need to be dusted. She was nervous and she believed rightly so.

She internally played out many of the possible scenarios even though she was about to encounter. He had sounded okay on the phone. He'd sounded positive. She turned and walked back over the room, listening for any sounds outside the entry door.

Her phoned pinged with an incoming text. Kate almost jumped out of skin. It was that moment she realised her behaviour was too highly strung and over wound.

"You've been through worse, Kate," she said firmly, unlocking her phone.

The text was from Lanie: **_Have you sorted out things with writer boy yet?_**

The reply needed some thought. She tapped out: **_He's on his way over to talk. I'm scared shitless. Wearing a track out on the floor with my pacing. F'ing pathetic._**

She sent it and watched the screen for the bubble.

Lanie's reply was quick: **_Ha Ha. Why you scared? He just wants to talk._**

 ** _Because Castle is bringing the show to my turf. And he's important to me._**

Lanie wrote back: **_Just be you, Kate. You know what he thinks about you._**

 ** _I'll call you when it's over._**

 ** _K._**

Kate sat for a bit in an arm chair. She switched to the couch for a few minutes, then stood and walked the apartment, her boots sounding on the hardwood floors. She anticipated that Castle was going to make her sit through the agony of discussing with him the extremely personal contents of the letters and viewing her private things; correction their private things, and her private thoughts.

About the time Rick was due to arrive she received a text telling her he was waiting for his order at the coffee shop. There was a mixed reaction to that. She was relieved to have the extra few minutes to get control, but to hell with it she wanted to see him soon. She always looked forward to seeing him.

The light tap on her door about five minutes later, caused her to stop dead in her tracks in the middle of the living room. It felt as though her tummy housed a Kaleidoscope of Monarchs.

Immobilised, she stared at the door until a second set of knocks sounded.


	5. Chapter 5

_The chapters are posted once I am happy with the first revised draft. Because of this a couple of chapters were small, but posted quick. The rest of the story is done. I could go on tweaking this for months but I'm just having fun when I write this sort of story. I write them like my English Lit teacher taught us to write – on the spot. She was the type of lady who didn't date, didn't wear make up or pay much attention to herself, but geez she was a good teacher. Tough, but fair. We were kind of scared of her._

 _The reviews are all interesting thank you. Gave me independent POVs to consider. It was fun to write this chapter, as I had to have RC maintain the humour, and I hope I have successfully managed to stay true to the characters._

Kate swung open the door. Castle was there holding the box with two coffee cups and paper bag set upon it.

He smiled nervously. "Good morning?"

"I think so, how are you?" she replied with a shy smile.

"Can I take something?"

"I got it. Just close the door," he said stepping inside the apartment to the kitchen where he put the box on the counter. His attention returned to Kate who followed him. The fingers of her right hand niggled at her hip.

He gave her a strange look, "You're nervous, Kate."

"Mm." She nodded and hugged her elbows.

"Relax. It's okay," he reassured, "You're wearing a dress. It's cute," he added, his hand pointing at the dress with the hemline half way up her lengthy thighs.

"I am," she glanced down at herself. "I like wearing dresses."

Rick had noticed at the doorway that her legs were bare except for brown Cuban healed leather boots. She had great legs and he struggled to take his gaze from them to her face which was absent of make-up. He could see a sprinkle of light freckles on her cheeks left over from the summer. He didn't take his eyes from her as he pulled off his coat mainly because he liked what he saw physically but was concerned by what he saw in her behaviour. Her anxiety was worse than his, practically off the dial. He would ease that soon enough. She was wasting useless energy that could be spent in better ways. He hung the jacket over the back of the kitchen stool then tugged up the sleeves of his cotton top. She kept the apartment warm. "Can I say something without it being misconstrued, Kate?"

"You can say anything."

 _Anything_. He straightened up with confidence, smiled. "You look gorgeous. The whole thing you've got going there, I mean." He swallowed nervously already thinking he'd stepped well over Kate's comfort line, but she eased his worries with a smile and she grabbed the skirt of her dress. It was such a girlish response that he hadn't anticipated and he swore he also saw her cheeks blush.

"Thank you. You're used to seeing me in work pants."

Did he really just see her sway her hips a little as she spoke? Now that was cute. He blinked to reset his brain's circuitry. "And may I suggest that you should wear dresses more often." He cleared his throat, deciding it was time to move on before things went rapidly downhill. He was more than aware her moods could change like the wind. He reached for the coffees and passed one to Kate. "I had to get your morning coffee."

"Thanks." She took a sip. It tasted great. "Maybe carry the box to the living area, Castle. I'll bring the food." She took his coffee and the bag and walked ahead of him. He couldn't help but stare at her calves praying she would wear dresses more often.

They sat on the couch with about a foot of space between them and Rick placed the unopened box on the coffee table. He looked about the space they were in, at everything in its place. Even her desk was unusually tidy. He'd visited Kate's apartment many times over the years, and it always looked clean but lived in. He enjoyed seeing her stuff scattered about the place. Today it was too tidy.

He took a drink of coffee, placed it on the table, then spoke mainly to break the uncomfortable silence between them. "You tidied up, I mean it's all perfect, but it's like my mother dropped by before I arrived."

Kate looked about. "No, she wasn't here, but I couldn't keep still you know, and I was doing laps, tidying things before you got here," she confessed.

"You probably won't be able to find anything for the next few days."

"Probably not." She drew a breath, "All the drawers are cluttered."

He gave her a smile of amusement, glancing over her face. "I see." He said content to watch her smooth the material of her dress along her thighs.

"Rick, I know why you're here." Her fingers trembled as she said with a shaky tone, "You also wanted to talk with me about something during the bomb case."

"Yes." He sat up. "Yes, I did, and I still do, but not right now. It can wait. We have to go back a bit first, before we progress to that talk, Kate," he said, deciding it was his time to set the pace and control where their conversation went. He deliberately fell quiet so she had time to absorb his words and he used the moment to think about what he wanted to say. Here was here about the items in the box. He reached for his coffee from the table, at which time his eyes fell upon a journal quite similar to the one she had given him. It was a good place for them to start: what she wanted him to see. Remain within her comfort zone. He didn't want this conversation to go astray or turn ugly as a lot hinged on this talk ending well. In fact, everything did. He was real keen for Option B to become his reality.

"Okay," Kate replied then had a decent sip of the coffee. She swallowed. "I wish it was wine, whisky, anything with alcohol would do right now." She was a nervous wreck, her eyes the size of saucers.

"Where is Detective Beckett?"

Kate choked on a laugh. "She bailed, Castle. I think you knocked down the wall last night. She ran away when I rushed after you from the Haunt."

He snuck a bit closer to her. "So I have Kate?"

She nodded. "Sure do. Haven't seen her for a while either." She swallowed. "It's nice to be her again." She needed to take the edge off her thinking and calm down. Every pulse was thrumming hard and fast in her arteries. His eyes were piercing. She could feel the suffocation returning. "Can you please not look at me so intensely Rick? You're making me feel awkward," she asked blinking back tears.

"That's an understatement. You're a mess." He reached over to the tissue box, pulled a couple of tissues out and handed them over. "You're gonna need them."

"Thanks." She blew her nose.

"Hey, listen to me. Calm down huh? There's nothing to be getting upset about." He watched her eyes flick between the box and her coffee. The stuff in the box had her agitated. Maybe he should have read at home.

"I'm trying, Castle. I've thought a lot about what you said last night, my life and us." She wiped beneath her eyes. "There's not much to be proud of. You were saying things you didn't mean. Covering the truth."

He was busted.

"But you got through to me, so it worked."

"That's good. So, stop worrying about the box," he murmured, and gave her forearm a light squeeze. He pointed at the journal at the other side of the coffee table. "Would you please pick up your journal and bring it to us?"

"Castle, it's my private diary."

"I know. You also put one in this box. I haven't read a word of anything but your letter, which is a beautiful letter by the way. Hit me hard."

She started to cry. Rick started to sweat. "Beautiful?"

"Oh yeah. It was you." He wasn't accustomed to her crying. "Kate? I was just being honest."

"I'm okay," she replied suppressing her emotions, then blew her nose.

"Could you please turn down the heating? It's stifling."

"It's you." She replied but picked up a remote control, pointed at a wall and hit the off button. She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being silly."

"You're being human. Grab your diary for me, Honey." He tugged at his top, giving it a shake to let some cool air to his skin. He needed to relax but Kate getting upset, troubled him. It always did.

She obeyed his request, stood, leaned over, reached out and dragged the book closer until she could pick it up. "I was writing in it this morning."

"You write it a lot?"

"Every other day."

The little purple draw string bag that was tied to the book jingled as she brought the items to her lap, holding it protectively. She gave the cover of the journal a gentle stroke reluctant to share it with him. She waited for Rick to continue. Worry filled her that he would ask her if he could read what she wrote.

"Kate?"

"Mm?" She shyly glanced at his eyes. Back to the journal. It was safer.

He softly caressed her upper arm in an attempt to settle her. She shot her eyes to his hand that touched her unusually, then looked at his eyes. He didn't retract his hand but gave a slightly firmer stroke when he said. "I know it's your diary and I don't want to read it."

"Then what?"

"Tell me about this diary. Describe it to me. And, I can see its red."

She looked down at it smirking. "Inside the cover, I have pasted a photo of you and I."

"From when?"

"Book launch for one of your writer buddies. We're hugging each other at a party with drinks in our hands."

"Like best friends."

She nodded.

"Show me."

She wasn't ready for him to see the picture mainly because it was prominently placed in her diary, but suddenly she opened the damn journal and tilted it so he could see it. They had hundreds of similar pictures but she liked the expressions of their eyes. It was clear they felt something for each other.

He immediately leaned in seeing their cheeks pressed together. "A selfie."

"I like this photo of us," she said which caused Rick to sit back and look at her face. She was full of surprises today.

"It's cute," he said before she noticed his reaction. "Your eyes look so content."

"Alcohol, I guess," she whispered, but she was fully aware she was on first glass in that photo.

"Are there more pictures?"

"Heaps."

"So the notes, napkins, trinkets-"

"Huh?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"All those little things I've given you in the past, like the keep sakes you placed in this box." He took his hand away but tapped the lid of the box.

"Yes?" She looked over his eyes biting her bottom lip.

"You didn't throw them in the trash?"

Kate slowly shook her head glancing at her latest journal stuffed full of his little gifts, "Nope, not a thing, well except consumables. I keep everything. Why would a throw out a thing that you give to me? They're part of us, like Nikki Heat is."

Rick sat back, scratching his head. "I'll be damned."

"Am I really so cruel to you, Rick?"

He slowly shook his head in the negative. "Mostly, no."

"Castle?" She queried hearing bitterness in his tone.

"Kate?"

"I'm really sorry."

"What about?" Right now, he really required details.

"I'm sorry because I know I gave you the impression that I don't have feelings for you, that I discarded gifts and took you for granted, used you, but it is completely the opposite. I don't want a life without you in it and I don't want to lose our friendship."

"You're my best friend, Kate. You won't lose me. It gets bumpy at times, but we deal with it. All great love stories have to fight for the happy ending."

She perked up a little, "So we're a great love story like Romeo and Juliet?"

"Bad choice. That's a tragedy and they die. I wanted them to live happily ever after."

"Same."

"So, we deviated. Everything I bestow on you ends up in your journals?"

"Those that fit, yes and I write the story of what happened." She turned the pages of the current journal to the page written about a night they had been out for dinner and drinks at a bar. There was a Ledger newspaper clipping with a picture. Rick's handwriting and an arrow was above the article bringing it to Kate's attention. "So I will always remember."

"For how long?" He looked down at the article she was referring to.

"Since the day after we met." She suddenly smiled through tears and released a giggle, "I even have my police notes from when I questioned you."

"Interrogated," he corrected with a chuckle.

"Questioned. You were hitting on me that night."

"It was funny. You were cute with your short hair and dark eyes. You were getting all flustered because your body was telling you I was a hottie but your head was stubbornly denying it."

Kate huffed, trying not to blush. She had thought exactly that but she wouldn't admit it right now.

"Go on, continue." Rick observed her, aware his boyish humour was keeping her emotions at bay. She was constantly on the edge of crying.

"Emails between us are saved in chronological order on USB sticks."

"Date order?"

"Yes."

"Please, indulge me, Kate. Tell me more. I truly need to hear this from you."

She put down the journal then wiped her eyes. "Well, I have a huge box in my room full of our stuff, and a few things that mean the most to me are in this box." She took a deep breath then added, "You will enjoy hearing that I had a time when I had to hide your presents from Josh." She smiled moving a little closer to him. "He never knew," she whispered.

"Kate. He knew. It's why he let you go." He glanced down to her fingers resting on the box that touched his.

"Have you kept things he gave you?"

She shook her head, "No, I eventually threw it all out."

"Good. I'm glad about that." Every insecurity he'd ever had about Kate's feelings of him rushed through his mind in a flood: belief that that she was stringing him along, wasn't able to reciprocate the same feelings, used him and enjoyed humiliating him.

Secretly, she had hidden her feelings and everything he'd gifted her. She had also lied to him. Another deep breath. Years of pent up emotions were bubbling to the surface. He felt like he'd suffered a direct punch to his heart. It hurt like hell and it was going to take him a while to accept the information. Like always, he would act as though he was easily dealing with the news. It was only when Kate held her left palm to his chest did he return to the moment. "Kate?"

She stayed quiet.

"Kate?"

She looked at him, bit her bottom lip then murmured, "I'm listening to you breathe." She fisted her hand into the cotton of his top a made anxious by his darkened mood. So far he had been reasonable. "You're pissed at me."

"Too right I am. I have every right to be."

She looked over his face to gauge his change in mood. "You rarely direct anger at me."

"I wish you had told me how you felt a long time ago," he said. "Instead you chose to hide behind that wall, in these journals. Said things to me that …" he waved it off but his eyes stared at her. "We've wasted so much time."

"I thought you knew that I was pretending."

"Sometimes you can be so fucking hard to read, Kate. Pretending, that's a cop out, and I didn't know you were pretending," he replied taking her hand from his chest to hold it in his, "And I don't say that with the intention of offending you. It's just a fact."

"I know. My Dad, he tells me to be honest, to not push you away." She looked down at their joined hands then over her journal that was filled with stories about them. "He likes you, a lot."

"You should listen to your father and do what he says."

She lifted her gaze back to his eyes. "I'm sorry I keep things to myself, from you. I'll try harder." She broke contact, took the lid off the box and picked up the pile of letters. She placed them in his hands, forcing him to take them. "These are your letters, Rick. These are from my heart. I want you to read them."

"Can't we.."

"I can't do this with you. Its … so personal. I don't even read them. Please don't say a word until you have read all of them. Then I want you to read that old journal. I'm gonna try to eat my breakfast."

"Okay." Rick nodded not will to argue about it. "I'll read them. But we will talk after if I want to."

She clenched her jaw, tears welling up, but she tried hard to keep them at bay. "Castle, you might not like me much after you have read them and you see how dishonest I have been with you. I should have been brave enough to tell you these things long ago."

"Let me make that decision, Beckett. Let me … be me with you." He swallowed, very aware her comment had been to push him farther away, to give him an exit card. Get angry and walk, she was implying. "I would rather you share it with me."

"I still…." she trailed off when her voice faulted. She was on the brink of crying again.

"Okay. I'll do it alone. But note I'm not happy about that. I'll talk with you on the other side of these," he said waving the letters before her. She nodded, stood and retreated to her bedroom, closing the door. He heard the click of the door latch, not surprised in the least she had chosen to be alone.

He suppressed the urge to follow her, to console her. She would be okay. He set the letters on the table and untied the purple ribbon. He rubbed a hand over his face, glancing to the closed door. He wanted to call her back.

"Kate," he muttered, "Kate-kate-katie."

He selected from the top of the pile, the oldest letter and started to read.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_This was the difficult chapter write. I was dwelling on the amount of time they prolonged Kate's acceptance of what she felt for Rick. However, where this story began was in an alternative place. She hadn't yet experienced his rejection (pulling away as she termed it), seen him with the air hostess, nor had she battled it out and hung of the side of the building. So in this instance its her own humiliation, her own undoing that is where this story heads._

Fifty seven single paged letters in total. He placed the closed journal on the coffee table beside the letters he would forever hold onto as treasures.

Like his Nikki Heat novels were full of his fantasies about them, the letters penned by Kate were messages of love to him. The words she had written formed raw secrets she had shared with only a fountain pen and sheets of paper. Whether she had ever planned to let him read them was a question that dwelled in his head.

The journal had been written during the time she had been recovering at her father's cabin to a few months back and she wasn't speaking to him as she did in the letters. It had gravely saddened him to read about her day to day struggles to do the simplest tasks, to make it through each day. Every single day she had promised him she was staying and getting stronger, that she would not leave him alone on this earth. She fought each day to become better. It was also evident she had been scared out of her mind that the sniper would find her.

It was the letters that touched him the most, probably because they were for him. Some of them sent his emotions into meltdown and he had reached for the tissues. Her letters were written like she was narrating, sitting in a bar, a lounge room or a park telling him about events that had taken place or moments missed. She'd revisited these minutes and hours and had written alternative endings on each occasion. She continued discussions that had been cut off too soon, or provided him with explanations about why she'd acted the way she had. Surprisingly, she had a terrific imagination, equal to his. Each letter was dated, roughly a page in length and signed off with 'Kate'. A handful of the letters, mainly the lighter, wittier stories, were imprinted by lipstick kisses in pink or red. Her heart and soul were poured onto every single page. He had laughed aloud or cried silently.

He adored the words she had spilled on to paper in her beautiful fountainpen handwriting: love, adore, I wish, regret, in love, sharing, spending her life, time, dreams, risks, reality, have, want, you, fate, death, shooting, faith, weaknesses, strengths, health, hope, staying.

He leaned over, head resting on his hands, elbows on knees, contemplating. What he was sure of yesterday, he now concluded he was completely and happily wrong.

There were so many sides to Kate that she managed to conceal from people, particularly how funny and romantic she was. One thing was crystal clear from her writing: Kate had real and intense feelings for him.

He sat up straighter and looked over the room.

Sometime ago, Kate had come from her bedroom but she had barely made a sound so she didn't disturb him. She was curled up in an arm chair, the boots off her feet, an iPad on her lap, reading. She was in her own world, inside the novel and wasn't aware that he was finished and was now vacantly staring at her. The hem of the dress was up high, exposing more of her thigh than he'd ever seen. She was absently twirling a long piece of hair in her fingers. He was pleased to see she had calmed down and was now relaxed.

"You're in love with me," he softly said.

Kate's hazel eyes shifted to his, wide and spooked but softened within seconds. Her fingers dropped the hair to toy with her lips. For several long seconds, they stared at each other before she gave him a single nod. Her fingers were trembling.

"Are you still scared?"

She breathed out. "No, I don't think so," she answered so quietly that he wasn't quite sure she said it. Her palm pressed to her chest right over the place the scar was. He saw her eyes were tear filled and watched as her left eye broke its bank. A tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it off, clearly frustrated with her show of emotions.

"Jesus, Kate," he muttered, half reaching to the pile of letters. "And I'm the writer….your letters are beautiful."

Kate smirked then cried a little giving into what she was feeling. "I wrote from my heart."

He raised an eyebrow, "That you did."

"It's my heart. My heart belongs ..." She choked on her words, closed her eyes titling back her head.

There was silence for almost a minute while Kate settled her emotions then fiddled with the casing of her iPad. Rick considered what he had read, what they had experienced over the past few days with the bombing. People who had been going about their business had had their lives suddenly taken away from them by the bomb being detonated. Those individuals hadn't met friends for lunch, nor gone to the park to walk or meet a lover. He was still alive and he had a choice: be angry about what she had hidden and lied about for so long and walk away, or just let it go. After all, he was not an innocent person in this either. He was guilty of deceit to protect her.

Let it be. Be with Kate. Option B.

She was with him now, and he could plainly see she was having a nervous breakdown about the situation. Today she was a cocktail of active nerves and it was because of him, of them. She was like that because he mattered to her, more than anyone. He was the individual of most importance to Kate. He watched her, folded up into a small bundle in the oversized arm chair, waiting for him to tell her he was pissed at her and didn't want to know her anymore.

But he did want to know her. He wanted to know a helluva lot more about her, including where that damn tattoo was.

Let it be.

He quiet, long breath of air, and breathed out, leting go of what was left of the anger towards her. Quietly he said, "A while back, your father told me you were a very funny kid,"

She looked at him lacking confidence, maybe a little confused by his comment. "Yeah?"

"Mm… I think he said you were entertaining and cheeky." He sat up straighter, putting his hands to his knees. "Could be quite naughty.

She smiled, wiped beneath her eyes, "I was, once. I kept my parents on their toes with practical jokes. No siblings to tease."

"I missed out too. The humour is entwined in your writing. You have an awesome sense of humour. The letter about the night we penetrated the Russian poker games. Your interpretation of me playing poker had me laughing hard, and when I said something about you having changed your clothes. Hilarious."

"Well, you are easy to laugh at. You were so funny, back in the van." She gave a little hint of a smile. "The day we went to the rifle range and shot those old guns … we had a great time. I fell for you more that day."

"Mm. LA, the pool, your swimsuit. Wow. The letter you wrote me from the hotel room. You should have crossed that room Kate. I wanted to be with you so much that night. That letter had me reaching for the tissues and needing iced water."

"Seriously? I will have to read it again."

"And I'm so glad I had you laughing for days when the bloody dog bit my ass."

Kate laughed, wiping her eyes and she caused him to chuckle.

When the laughter eased, Kate kept her eyes on Rick, no longer concerned about him capturing her gaze. Her legs slipped toward the floor and she stepped off the arm chair. She placed her iPad on the coffee table. Bare footed, she crossed the room then held out her hand. "Come on."

Confused, he asked. "What is it?"

"I want to show you something." She wriggled her fingers. "The extent of it."

"Okay." He set his phone down on the couch, and taking her hand, he stood and followed the woman to her bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and when she felt the slight restraint she paused looking back to him with a questioning expression. "Kate. We don't …. We're a long way from ..."

"Follow me, Castle, it's not what you think." She urged him to follow, and so he did, wondering what the hell she had planned.

At the end of the bed there was a very large wooden trunk that she knelt before letting go of his hand.

"I use this when I put on or take off my shoes or leave my clothes over it. It's a great storage box."

He touched the top of it then gave it a bit of a push but it didn't budge. "Bloody sturdy. Good height. It would be great workbench for sex, Beckett."

She glanced over her left shoulder, sure Rick expecting a reaction, mostly for her to be mortified by his comment.

"Well, one day we'll definitely have a crack at it," she said just as seriously.

Any oxygen left Rick's lungs and several coughs followed as his hands covered his mouth. She snickered at his playful reaction.

He said, "I'm sorry, but I'm really looking forward to that, already."

"I bet you are." She lifted the heavy lid as she said. "My granddad made this box. Mom's Dad."

"Oak. He did a nice job." He saw a multitude of keepsakes inside the chest. "It will survive the rigours of sex on many occasions once we sort out our beautiful mess," he said with a tone of confidence.

"Granddad would die if he heard his granddaughter planning to have sex with you on this box," Kate remarked, glancing at Rick.

"Too late, he died before we met," Rick said. "What was it used for, before you claimed it for the purposes of future sex with your favourite author?"

"Castle. Oh, I get it. You're just wanting me to react." She said listening to his laughter. She carried on. "It was originally built to be a firewood box. Now it contains my important stuff." She stood up and looked up to his eyes, "Did it ever occur to you I might have already had sex on it?" She raised the right eyebrow, her eyes bright and cheeky.

His eyes widened and he gulped, "I really hope you were fantasising about us."

"Maybe. Maybe not." She took a deep breath and pointed to the right side of the interior of the box. He followed her direction. It was brimming with her journals, pieces of clothing, magazines, coffee cup lids with words or drawings on them, sheets of paper and newspaper pages and all sorts of items. She folded her arms as she said. "A work in progress, but it's all about us."

"About us," Rick echoed and wiped his mouth. He stared at the inside of the box for several long seconds then reached out and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Your version of Nikki Heat."

"My version of Nikki Heat," she agreed with a nod. "I have pressed flowers you gifted me inside my books stacked out in the kitchen."

"You're making me feel bad, Kate." From a sea of coffee cups, he selected one which he had printed in his neat handwriting with a red marker _Happy Valentine's Day, Katie. Always._ "Last valentines," he muttered and she hummed her agreement to that.

She shyly said, "Maybe next Valentine's you might like to gift me with something sexier than coffee, like lingerie."

Her suggestion, more so the tone she used, stilled Rick. His brain fell blank, and then images of Kate wearing lacy lingerie entered his imagination. This time she was in a red camisole.

"Not fair, Kate," he mumbled, "but you did give me a lovely picture and February is not too far away."

"Trust you." She picked up a lid too that had drawings of aliens, "You trying to perk me up, when we couldn't find a solution to the pressure chamber case."

"I remember that. The alien case."

"Atmospheric pressure chamber case. No aliens."

"Tom _a_ to, Tomarrrto.".

"Sounds like it."

"All this." He pointed at the contents of the trunk.

"Just because I couldn't tell the author who uses me as his muse and tells the whole world in his writing he loves me so, doesn't mean I didn't and still don't feel the same." She accepted the lid he passed her as he picked up an 8 x 10 photograph of them safely protected by a plastic pocket. He studied it as she said, "I couldn't share this with you but instead I let you think I threw it all out for all these years, when I actually squirreled them away."

He grunted and showed Kate the photo. "God you looked hot that night. New years-" he trailed off, putting the photo back. "You won't have to hide these in here, you can put them in frames on display, not have to lie."

That comment caused Kate's throat to constrict. She had wanted to put them on display for a long time. "I'm sorry I was so careless with your feelings. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know. You were protecting yourself." Rick took a hold of her wrist. She began to cry and wasn't hiding it, wasn't ashamed to show her vulnerable side. "Kate?" With both hands, he gently turned her about to face him and took the coffee lid from her. She was tired. Dark shadows were beneath her eyes and her face had paled significantly. He'd seen enough. He returned both items to the box and stepped to her taking her in his arms.

"Please don't cry. I understand what it all means to you. Showing me those letters I know was distressing for you." One hand to the back of her head, fingers closing in her hair, the other hand flat to her back he held her. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. Best of all, she leaned right in and wrapped her arms around his waist. Another layer of Kate Beckett fell away. He whispered, "Don't cry." Another kiss because the first one seemed to work. "You feel so small, Kate," he said, having always imagined she would be impressionable in his embrace. It was her mental and physical strengths that were bigger than life. She was quite fine to hug.

"I feel small here." She squeezed him tighter.

"You're tall." He held her firmer caressing her back. "It's one of the many things I like about you."

Rick stayed still. He knew women, especially this one, and let her weep. She was verbally quiet, but physically expressing herself: her head rested on his chest and her body was pressed into his, her arms clinging to him. When he felt the slight release of her grip, he relaxed a little, brushed his lips to her hair.

"You okay?"

"Mm, I think the wall fell down."

He creased his brow, his mind quickly catching up to where Kate was. The wall. The theoretical wall around her. "Well good. It was a fucking high wall, Kate."

"Crumbled to dust," she whispered.

"Good. Then its time I stepped over the rubble to you."

He felt Kate let go, so he loosened his hold of her but ensured he kept her within his space. He wasn't letting her go just yet. She looked up at his face, her large dark eyes moist and dilated. Her expression was softer than usual, and she looked younger by years, vulnerable. She gazed over his face.

"I'm sorry," she replied putting her palm to his left cheek. "I'm sorry." Her finger tips lightly traced the outline of his lips and her eyes followed her fingers, flicking to his eyes. He let her continue. She gradually felt every part of his face, the stroking the scar on his forehead. Initially, she was a little cautious but quickly gained confidence once she knew he wasn't going to object. A cute smile of what he thought was fascination, that he'd never seen her make, appeared seconds before her hands rested to his collar bones.

She shifted to her toes seeking more, wanting her lips against his. He obliged, closing the distance and they tenderly kissed. She was hesitant, shy, more constrained than he had ever imagined: he thought more tender than any other woman he had kissed.

Everything became a blur for Rick when his brain short circuited, losing its ability to think beyond the shocking fact that Kate Beckett was kissing him. Kissing him for fucks sake. Her lips were softer than he remembered. Her scent, the deodorant she wore infused his senses. The kiss lingered in some sort of experimental zone, of tasting each other. It was far from clumsy and awkward. When her tongue glided across his lower lip seeking his permission, he instantly relaxed his jaw obliging her. Yes, he wanted a real contact. Much more. His heart rate was fast and he felt his temperature rising. He wanted more. All he wanted was Kate. She was there. He heard a moan escape him.

Their kissing grew hungrier, more urgent. Her hands were in his hair, on his neck, his chest. Her mouth was hard against him, her tongue dancing with his. He followed her pace, kept his hands within safe places, set the pace and she followed. His focus was on them. It all happened slow and dreamlike. His senses were spiking and feeling everything. His hands followed the contours of her body to her buttocks. Another moan, and yes, he heard her making those sounds she made when she ate good food. But it was more intense. A strong sudden urge to pick her up and carry her to the bed struck him but he moved his hands away from her butt. The bed. The bed would be a good place right now. Not yet. Too soon. His left returned to her hair, her head.

He dared to gently, briefly brush his knuckles across her left breast. No objections. She released a sound. He tenderly cupped her breast. He stayed there. The kissing. She was so good at it. Braving up, his fingers explored her breast. He had his hand on Kate's breast and he wasn't getting smacked. No bra. No bra! Her body was full of electricity. She was buzzing. His hand also felt the rapid pounding of her heart. She was becoming wobbly on her feet. With his left arm, he lifted her body up higher so he didn't have to lean to her so much. She didn't object to that, nor to his right hand massaging her full breast. He was gonna die. Would die a happy man.

More sounds of pleasure escaped her. Yes, she was definitely enjoying it. He knew those sounds very well. She briefly parted lips to draw in oxygen. He needed air too. She returned more forcefully. This was too fast for him, would be for Kate. It was her that pulled him to her from his shoulders. Her nipple had hardened. He had hardened. He was sure her pelvis just thrusted against him. Was that her leg going up his? He was drowning in Kate.

 _Pick her up and take her on the bed._

His right arm left her breast.

 _Pick her up. Too soon_.

It was the trembling that brought him back to reality. Initially, he thought Kate's excitement had escalated. She cried into his throat. Within seconds, her knees gave out forcing him to gather her in arms pressing her to him. The push against his ribs ceased his progress. The kissing ceased. She regained her footing as her eyes met his. She gave a cry.

And then she shattered.

She burst into sobs of pure distress, collapsing into his arms.

"Hey! Kate." Terrified, he grabbed her up, rescuing her collapse to the floor.

"Gotta sit down," she gasped out hanging tightly on to him.

Rick bundled her up and encouraged her to the bed he clumsily plonked her on. He let her go, but she was gripping him. He'd scared her. That's what it is. She can't run, she can't push him away. She can't deny herself of her feelings anymore. She imploded.

Quite shaken by the sudden reaction, Rick started to panic, pushing her hands off his neck. He didn't want to scare her away. Not now, he'd come so close. He quickly retreated to the window. He needed space. A lot of space. He leaned against the wall, his arm crossed, hugging his chest that rapidly rose and fell. She was crying. He sensed her confusion. His groin was on fire, his jeans tight and uncomfortable. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

She stayed seated on the side of the bed, huddled, hugging her elbows, choking on sobs she was trying to suppress.

"What's going on, Kate? What happened?" He asked, glancing from her about the room, wishing his brain would reengage. He wiped his lips, still tasting her. His lips tingled, were full of blood and hot. His body was charged. Nerves and hormones were going mad.

She rocked her body, making cries that sounded like muffled words.

"Kate?" He strongly called. "What are you-?"

"There are drums in my head!" Burst from Kate as her hands covered her ears.

"Drums?" He queried, feeling the rapid drumming in his chest, in his groin. His pulses were thrumming, his ears were ringing.

"Boom boom boom!" She cried, wheezing for oxygen.

"Boom, boom boom?" he repeated at the same pace his own heart pounded. She was feeling the same sensations. "Breathe, Kate. You're okay." He took a deep breath and whispered to himself, "I'm okay. I'm okay. She's okay."

He stared at the woman he only ever saw as strong minded, brave woman. It was all an act. She was as scared as the next person. There was still so much to learn about her. He waited for his body's reaction to pass, to compose himself. She was doing the same thing but not as successfully as he managed.

When he was ready to settle her, he stepped towards the bed, until he crouched before Kate, his large hands taking their place on her slender thighs. Her skin was clammy. She immediately gripped at his clothing, her body shaking, her lungs struggling for sufficient air. Perspiration broke over her face.

"Oh God."

"Kate, breathe." He leaned in closer, surprised she trembled as much as she did. His own body was shaky but not visibly as hers was. Feeling calmer, he smiled. "It's okay."

On the night stand, he saw a bottle of water he reached for. He untwisted the lid and held it to her mouth. "Have a drink."

She keenly drank from it gulping several mouthfuls, her eyes focussed on his. She barely blinked, but he saw she was regaining control. Her ability to breath returned. He stroked back loose strands of curls from her face. He murmured, "You better?"

"I'm sorry, Rick." She laid her hand over his.

"Overwhelming huh?"

She nodded and cried a little more looking about her bedroom. "Too early for a drink?"

"Too early," he answered. "What happened?"

"I was kissing you." She glanced to his eyes, "Which was the best."

"It was more than great."

"Then suddenly I can't breathe, like I'm under water. Deaf and drowning. It came at me like a freight train, a complete shut down. My body wouldn't work."

"You scared the shit out of me."

"I scared the fuck out of myself, Rick."

He released a laugh at her strong response. "I know. I felt you lose it." He stood up needing to stand. There were bits of his body still recovering. He adjusted his jeans, too sensitive to be wearing them. They were uncomfortably tight. He put his hand to the top of her head and gave her a caress. "You okay?"

"I'm getting there."

"You'll be right, Beckett. Just a reaction. We've had a big morning. We shouldn't have kissed today."

She reached out to his hand that she gave a little tug. "Not how I expected our first real kiss to be."

"Too much Disney channel, Kate. You need to cut back."

"Maybe," she brought his hand to her and gave his palm a kiss, his fingers cupping her jaw.

He watched the small motion she made thinking about how beautiful she looked, how she had just soothed herself, showing him affection. Her eyes looked up to his. His fingers felt her swallow. He had to look away, and glanced down to his groin, relieved his excitement was no longer evident. He then noticed that Kate's gaze had followed his.

"I felt that," she said, "then it all went crazy inside."

"You thrusting your pelvis…. Umm ..." he waved his hand towards her groin, "… against him, kind of got him really going." His voice was embarrassingly high and it seemed to amuse Kate as she almost laughed.

"I think _he_ was already on the go," she replied then inhaled a deep breath, shaking off the emotions.

"Yeah, its fucking hurting right now," he muttered shaking his right leg.

"Sorry, but its satisfying to know I can do that to you," she replied.

"You definitely do it to me. You feel better?" Rick inquired very concerned over her strong reaction.

"I think we have experienced a pivotal moment in our relationship this morning," she said, wiping her cheeks with shaky hands. "I've been like a cat on a hot tin roof most of the day."

A smile changed to a grin. "I agree."

"No fanfare, no fireworks."

"What? You didn't feel that, Kate?"

"If you're referring to a sudden surge of emotions I had absolutely no control over, then yes I did."

"That was a bit of a surprise." He leaned over studying her face. She was wiped out. "Kate, pivotal moments in relationships usually don't happen with fanfare, but they just take place, creep up on us when we're not looking."

"I wasn't ready."

"I know, and I did agree to wait for you to be so, but I don't think you would have been …"

"Before I came to this point with you, I wanted to be more than I am," she calmly confessed, "Much more."

"You want to be more than you are?" He asked in disbelief. "Oh, Kate." He combed his hand through her hair, concerned about her comment. She answered with a nod. "Have you not seen how much there is to you already? You're extraordinary."

"I'm just a cop." She bit her lip worried she was sounding daft.

"Not just a cop. So summing today up." Rick began. "This day has manifested itself into a monumental event for us. A game changer. Just no fireworks. If you want to be more than you already are, I will be right beside you." He dwelled on the last thing she said. "I want to know the real you. If you agree that it's time to give us a shot, then how about we try? We can keep it to ourselves for a while."

Kate gave a nod, "Its time." She consumed more water.

He waited a short time for her to fully regain her composure. His own brain was travelling at warp speed, trying to keep up with developments. He dealt with the knocks of life far better than Kate did, but right now he was struggling to maintain composure.

She held out the bottle of water that he took a long drink of before he set it back where he'd found it. He then got closer to Beckett who was internally warring for the control and retreat of some serious forces of emotions. She had well and truly stopped crying but now looked exhausted. Using a deeper than usual voice, he said, "I nudge, you shove."

With a very young, timid voice she replied. "Keep nudging me, Rick."

He reached out and touched her jaw, showing a very serious side. She stilled, her eyes locked on his. "We're going to be together now. It's time to stop shoving and open your arms," he said.

"Cas -"

"Open your bloody arms to me. I'm here. I'm right here. No more pushing me away."

She made a sound he wasn't quite sure of. He tilted his head a little to his right, his eyes watching the woman before him with the curiosity of a child seeing something for the first time. She was thinking, analysing what was internally going on. Then she raised both her arms to his shoulders and started to stand up. He grinned. "Thata girl. You did it."

He reached out to her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He stood right up, picking her up off the floor to hold her tight, never wanting to let her go. "Thata girl," he repeated. "It's all going to be okay."

He closed his eyes, full of relief that she had finally let him in. She had let him in.

She was his.


	7. Chapter 7

_This is it, the final chapter and hopefully will satisfy the readers who want to read the letters._

It had finally happened. They were laying on the bed together, both willing to rest for a while. Kate, who was almost dozing, woke with a start when her upper arm was given a bit of a squeeze.

"Kate? You still awake?"

"What is it, Castle? I was almost asleep," she groaned.

"Two parts, Kate," Rick mumbled his fingers combing through her hair, over the side of her head. Consent to touch had been granted, so he was making the most of it. Without knowing it, he was also soothing her mood. She was thoroughly enjoying his undivided attention and was quickly getting used to it.

"Huh?"

"When I told you I loved you on the grass. You mentioned in your letter, and wrote in the journal that you divided what I said into two parts." He lowered his hand to her waist then slowly stroked down over her hip to her thigh. She felt as good as he had imagined.

"Oh. Yeah. You saw that bit." She moved a little within his hold thinking about the months alone in the cabin.

"Yeah, I did. What did you mean by two parts?"

"I had to break it up because what you said was too much for me to deal with at once. You asked me to do something for you and you declared you loved me."

For a moment, they were quiet. Then he said, "I only said I loved you. Only had a few seconds before Lanie was over you keeping you alive."

"You said more than three words, Rick." She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He stopped caressing her hip, his palm resting there. "I really remember every word you said."

He momentarily lifted his head so he could see her eyes then relaxed again, his face in her hair against the side of her head. She smelt so good, that he breathed deeper than usual. She was telling the truth. "I don't remember in detail. Everything happened so fast. We were in an ambulance rushing you to the hospital within minutes. That part is stuck in my memory for the rest of my life."

"The last thing I remember is you." She turned her head back, adjusting it on the pillow. She was pre-occupied with processing what was going on now rather than what happened months ago. She was laying on her bed, being spooned by Richard Castle, and it felt like the safest place in the entire world. Adaptation, to a new beginning was gradually taking place. Any contact with him was fuelling her with new sensations. No man had ever made her feel the way she did. He was constantly gentle, his belly was warm and soft against her lower back. Almost a half hour since her little meltdown, she felt the calmest she had been in days, even months. Actually, she felt like a tonne had been lifted from her shoulders. It hadn't been so hard to admit to Rick what she felt for him. He was very content behind her, doing what she had prevented him from doing for so long. They had agreed to take things slowly and simply laying with him was perfect right now. Absolutely perfect.

He moved behind her, so Kate rolled over to face him. They held hands, their faces inches apart.

"What else did I say?" He keenly asked.

She creased her brow at his childish enthusiasm, sleepily stared at his eyes. She could see the curiosity in the brightness of his eyes. She sighed, decidedly too tired to continue. She closed her eyes. "You read it."

"Kate?" He gave her shoulder a little shake. Her eyes opened to his. "Tell me."

"I was on the grass you murmured." She bit her lip in thought then softly recited the words retained in her mind like the lyrics of a favourite song, "' _You're okay'_." She breathed in deeply. "Then you whispered, ' _Kate'_." She breathed, "Please Kate, don't leave me, please." She touched his chin with her finger tips. "Stay with me, okay?" Finally, she whispered as he had, "Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate."

Rick's eyes swapped between her finger and her eyes as he bit his bottom lip. After she finished, he repeated just as he'd said it on the day. "Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay?"

"Exactly like that." She hummed, closing her hands firmly around his fingers. "Your face was the last thing I saw before I woke the following day in pain, in the hospital. The first thing I thought about was you. Then I was still angry at you because of Montgomery."

"I know." He kissed the back of her hand, "I don't remember asking you to stay with me."

"I never forgot. Hung onto it."

"Your journal is full of you hanging on."

"And that is really hard for me to deal with, you knowing that, how weak I was, how scared."

"It was hard to read. I don't know how you coped, but I figure you concentrated on living first. I wish you had called me. I would have taken care of you. I would never have left until you told me to go."

"I had a death sentence hanging over me, Rick. Every day, I was waiting for another bullet to hit me. I didn't want you hurt trying to save me." She closed her eyes liking the caress over the side of her head. "I would lay around, like we are now, dozing, thinking about getting back home to you, sleep, eat, you, walk, what were you doing while I was resting, eating. I would repeat ' _Get better, Kate_. _Wanna be home. Get better. Damn crickets_." She smiled and opened her eyes to his.

"Damn crickets," he mimicked causing her to laugh.

"The noises drove me nuts." She wriggled closer touching the side of his face. They kissed tenderly.

He was the one who pulled back first, wary to take it too far too soon. He constantly touched her, reinforced his commitment to them. He didn't want her getting scared about things now.

"What were you thinking when we kissed before?" She asked scanning his face.

"Really?"

"Mm… I wanna know."

"Briefly, she kissed me. Overall, I was experiencing general disbelief, I was thinking Kate is kissing me. Over and over."

"Really?"

"Really. And when I touched your breast you didn't hit me," he bit his lip. She laughed, then hid her face behind her right hand. Rick watched her loving her shyness. "What?" He asked and saw her shake her head, clearly embarrassed. "Tell me, Beckett."

She laughed. "I can't, its too embarrassing."

Rick chuckled, "C'mon, it can't be that bad."

She looked at his eyes, her moist with laughter, clearly trying to assess his thought. "You won't tease me?"

He grinned like a boy, "Honey, I can't promise you I won't tease you. It's in my DNA to make fun of you." He turned serious. "I won't tease you if you tell me. Please."

"I was fan girling big time." She giggled, totally humiliated. Her voice was high. "Like, I'm being kissed by Richard Castle. By you!" She playfully pushed on his chest. "Bigger than life Richard friggin' Castle." Fingers were on his shoulder, "My fucking God, he's touching me and it was causing intense reactions inside me I'd never felt. You made me feel this crazy way somehow. It was crazy and I was committed." She grinned and touched his chin, "I think I went into a state of shock and panic when it got serious. I could feel you wanting to lift me onto the bed, sensed your hesitation, felt your strength, and then there was this surge of intense emotions that I couldn't control. Nothing like I ever imagined… I couldn't stand, breath. It was crazy and my thoughts and senses are still spinning me round." She touched his lips, longing to be kissing them again. She lifted herself to him, encouraged by her own excitement, and murmured, "I'm going to kiss you, Rick."

"Go on," he whispered with a daring tone.

She kissed him, staying there several seconds before she parted. She looked to his eyes. "And I'm not scared to anymore," she said her eyes darting between his mouth and eyes.

"Good," he replied, in a semi state of shock from her little outburst, her final burst of energy, "Because there's gonna be a lot of kissing." He laid to his back chuffed. Yep, chuffed. He looked to the ceiling, a smug smile appearing. "I'm with Kate," he said mainly to himself, and stretched his arm out as Kate laughed. She soon wriggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "There will be a lot of kissing." He repeated, cupping the side of her head.

"I like kissing," she said.

"How about a nap? Naps are good. You look exhausted."

"I am." She rested her arm on his chest, closing her eyes. His arm wrapped down the length of her back. She heard him breathing, his heart beating steadily in his rib cage.

"Are you warm enough in your dress?"

"I'm perfect where I am."

"Then so am I."

They fell asleep within minutes.

A loud bang brought Kate from sleep with a start. Her eyes opened to the ceiling. She sat up. She glanced to the left side of the bed, wanting him closer again.

She was alone in the bed. A throw rug had been spread over her body. She looked about her bedroom, listened for him in the bathroom.

"Castle?"

She waited. She called louder but already sensed she was the only person in the apartment. He'd left her. Disappointment settled in heavily and rapidly. She had fallen asleep in his arms with the hope she would wake up still embraced by Castle.

Then a smile of awe appeared over her face as her hands went to her mouth, for it was now a reality that she had fallen to sleep in Richard Castle's arms, smelling his cologne, him, loving his hands touching her. She glanced to the pillow his head had slept upon then let her body flop back down, her face landing in the middle of the pillow. She breathed in. His scent, his cologne was infused in the pillow case.

She rolled to her back her face wearing, she was sure of it, a love sick expression. He left hand went to her breast and cupped it, her imagination trying to recreate how his hand had felt. The hand she had eyed off for such a long time, wondering how it would feel touching her, had lit a fire in her loins that was still smouldering. The desire to have him touch her again was the only thing she could think about.

"I'm love sick," she confessed to the bedroom. "I've got it bad." She grinned stupidly enjoying the buzz flowing through her veins.

He was gone.

Slightly deflated about his absence, she glanced to her watch to see it was shortly after 1.30 pm. She had slept a good hour or so. He must have had something he needed to do.

Minutes later she was in the living room and found that everything was where they had left it. She flopped on the couch with a bottle of water in her hand, now disappointed beyond words that Rick had not been there when she woke. Insecurities nagged at her that he had decided he didn't want to be with her but the logical side reassured he had just gone to do something. It had felt right falling asleep with him on her bed. She smirked. It had felt more than right. His presence in her bed had let her peacefully fall to sleep and she wanted more of that feeling. It was addictive.

Her eyes, lazily staring off into space, settled on the pile of letters Rick had read his way through. She noticed an odd sheet of paper poking out from beneath the first letter so she reached for both, setting the bottle on the table.

Curious to see what she had written in her first letter addressed to Castle, Kate unfolded the thick paper. She recalled she had been very detailed in that letter. At the time, she had been excited about meeting her long time favourite author, but then the attraction to him had immediately kicked in.

She scanned her cursive script, then reread it, slowing right down to get a feel for what she felt so long ago.

 _Dear Mr Castle,_

 _Sounds a little stiff, I say, but it's appropriate today. Maybe one day (I can dream in my letters) and I'm hoping in the not too distant future, my letters will begin with Dear Rick, Dearest Rick, Dear Husband. No, no. Scratch that one out. But in case you do ever read this, I write letters to people when I can't tell them what I want to say. I started writing them after I lost my Mom so I could tell her about the things that happened in my life, to help deal with my Dad. My therapist at the time suggested it would help me, but now it's more of a habit when I'm stuck in life._

 _Hence, I'm up in the night when I should be sleeping, writing to a stranger, a celebrity of sorts, that I have admired from afar for many years. It's because of you that I cannot sleep. Because I found you. My instincts tell me fate played a big part in last night. It sounds lame when I write it. You blew my circuitry to smithereens and not because you're famous, though it is kinda cool._

 _I also got spooked which just doesn't happen very often with me. Your presence awakened an instinct a feeling deep within me that I've never experienced before. It was exhilarating and frightening._

 _You also flustered me no end in the interrogation room. Your cologne I fell in love with when I came through the door. The whole room was infused with your scent. I really had to focus while I read out your previous misdemeanors and then you just shrugged your shoulders and replied "Boys will be boys." My legs nearly buckled under at how cute you looked, but I was forced to read on - that you stole and then rode a police horse - naked. Yes, naked. Awkward. I had to sit down after that. Took my breath away. I could see the outline of your chest beneath the shirt. I was so dizzy. You being naked was all I could think about and I had to pretend I was grossed out._

 _Simultaneously it was a requirement that I remain the dominant force in the room. My face was on fire, I wanted to reach out, grab the collar of your white shirt and pull your lips to mine, but I had to retain that cop facade._

 _I can't even think about you saying you'd being happy to let me spank you. Hand cuffs with that? It wasn't my face heating up after that. I kept it tough, brutal with you._

 _And the big claims. Well. We'll see._

 _Then you said I was a hardcore Castle groupie. I only wished at that point that the floor would have opened up and swallowed me. I didn't think it could be any more humiliating, but you happened to rescue me when said with such sincerity that I had gorgeous eyes. I looked into your bright blue eyes and all I longed to do was tell you I felt the same about yours. My head was spinning and I tried to focus._

 _Speaking of your eyes, I will never forget the brightness of your_ _eyes, a memory that is burned into my soul. I didn't notice them the first time I met you, but I was barely an adult, a self-indulging, distracted teenager who wanted a book signed by her favourite author._

 _My brain tripped and lost all rational thoughts when I leaned in, breathed in your scent, soaked in your eyes. You bit your bottom lip. I only wanted to kiss you – everywhere. But I had to be mean and say no to the pictures. I had to escape the room and so I forced myself to state we were done here. I couldn't escape fast enough._

 _You aren't just the writer to me anymore but I will strenuously deny any claims that I am attracted to you. You are indeed too much of a lad, and a lady's man. You could have any woman (and do) and won't want me for the long term. I think I would just be another one of your conquests. I would carry on life with the knowledge I had slept with a famous mystery writer but given a few months you might not remember that I even exist._

 _Well, it was the best night ever and I will probably never see you again, but it was sure nice to meet you._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Ms Kate Beckett_

 _PS. Why did you kill Derek Storm? I would love to know._

Detective Beckett's cheeks were flaming with pure humiliation. She had let Richard Castle, the man she had pretended quite efficiently to despise for so long, read her very first love letter to any man. It was bad. It was like a teenager's declaration of love to a rock star. She slumped her head back and looked at the ceiling.

"Oh my fucking God Kate, what were you thinking? Why on earth did you give him the letters?" She growled into the empty apartment.

It was done now. Too late for a change of heart. She lifted her head then looked down to the other item resting on her left thigh.

She rubbed her brow, then picked up the scruffy piece of paper that was all folded up and worn out at the edges. It had been around for a while squashed somewhere tight. She turned it about, wondering where it had come from. She didn't recognize it which meant it belonged to Castle. She waved it in front of her nose. It smelt of money and leather. She carefully unfolded the sheet of paper fearful it would tear, soon recognizing it as NYPD note paper. Designed to last a while stored in case files. Opened, she saw the words written in Rick's hand writing dated the same day as her letter to him. The ink had seen better days but she could easily read his beautiful hand writing.

 _Detective Kate Beckett,_

 _I want to be with you._

 _One day, you will be the love of my life and my wife._

 _Always_

 _Rick Castle._

She stared vacantly at the words. Sometimes it was best to think about nothing, to just accept reality and not fight it. Kate did exactly that for quite a while. She was too stunned to do anything else.

It was the sound of a key sliding home into the lock of her front door that brought Kate back to reality. The barrel turned with the key. She went to reach for her Glock concealed under the coffee table but then paused. The door opened and in stepped Rick, his arms loaded with brown paper bags. He kicked the door shut just as he saw her.

"Beckett. You're awake. You looked so cute sleeping I couldn't wake you up. I used the keys you gave me by the way. I figured it out they were for here. I hope you're hungry for Thai, Honey, because I didn't know what you would feel like today so I just ordered heaps off the bloody menu." He released the bags to the kitchen counter reached into one of them and pulled out a six pack of beers. "I also got these. Good day to share a beer or two, huh?" He gazed over to her with a big smile then pointed towards the letters.

"Oh good. I see you found my first letter to you. Something to memorialize today. It's been in my wallet all this time, well since I wrote it at the Precinct. It kind of completes the collection don't you think? I guess, well, you have me too now, so the collection is finished but I won't really fit in the box." He grinned glancing to the bedroom. She stared at him.

"Kate?" He called to gain her attention.

She focused on his eyes.

He pointed and waved his hand at her. "Yeah, your jaw is hanging open a bit there. You might wanna tell your brain to close it."

"Apples," is all she said.

He laughed out loud. "You don't need to use the safe word now."

"I gonna be your wife one day?"

"Of course, even you know that. One day at a time, Honey. Leave the safe word till you really need to use it." He waved for her to join him. "Put that stuff down, let it go and come to me."

She rose from the couch, her bare feet quiet on the hard floor.

"Also, I would love to talk about when you met me the first time. It seems to have skipped four years of conversations. But it can wait. We've had information overload today. Come see what I bought."

She approached the counter tidying down her dress, and peered at the boxes of food he was bringing out of the bags. "How much food did you buy?"

"Heaps. You must be starving. I haven't seen you eat properly in days."

"We're exclusive?" Kate asked.

He stopped what he was doing, recognizing she was in a very different place to him. "Well yes, why you asking?"

"I want to know."

He grinned, "Fuck it yes, of course we are. In fact, I haven't been with another woman in such a long time I don't even remember the last time I had sex, so yeah, I would say we're exclusive already."

Kate snickered, "Me neither," she said. "I mean, I haven't been with any one since …" she trailed off her eyes mischievous.

"Then we're already exclusive," he said, kind of liking the idea Beckett hadn't been with a man since the doctor motorcycle boy (man), who saved lives while writer boy was making pancakes first thing in the morning. But who was in Beckett's apartment, feeding her, being with her.

"I guess we are then." When she came to the same side of the counter, he reached out to her and drew her in close for a kiss to her left cheek. "And I bet you were just thinking about Josh."

"Maybe, maybe not," he said smugly, "but I'm not sharing you with anyone." He let her go. "Now hurry up already. You're gonna need heaps of energy. If you only knew what I am going to do to you. I have been fantasizing about it for years. I should have got you protein bars."

She put her index finger to his lips, grinning, "Shut up, Castle. Let's eat, and tonight you're taking me on our first real date."

Rick grinned. "Arrr, Detective Beckett is back. It's gonna be great."

"You have no idea, Ricky." She reached out to his neck, pulled him to her and kissed him hard.

The end.

I was listening to this song, A Different Corner, a lot during the time I wrote this. I'm a George Michael (RIP) fan and only realised after this was complete how relevant the lyrics are (George Michael lyrics):

I'd say love was a magical thing  
I'd say love would keep us from pain  
Had I been there  
Had I been there

I would promise you all of my life  
But to lose you would cut like a knife  
So I don't dare  
No I don't dare

'Cause I've never come close  
In all of these years  
You are the only one to stop my tears  
And I'm so scared  
I'm so scared

Take me back in time  
Maybe I can forget  
Turn a different corner  
And we never would have met  
Would you care?

I don't understand it  
For you it's a breeze  
Little by little  
You've brought me to my knees  
Don't you care?

No I've never come close  
In all of these years  
You are the only one to stop my tears  
I'm so scared of this love

And if all that there is  
Is this fear of being used  
I should go back to being lonely and confused  
If I could, I would, I swear.


End file.
